


Better Than Better

by Miaou Jones (miaoujones)



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Established Relationship, Love, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-30
Updated: 2010-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-14 06:00:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/146141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miaoujones/pseuds/Miaou%20Jones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Masaomi wants to make things better for Mikado.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Than Better

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the [Durarara!! Kink Meme](http://drrrkink.livejournal.com). Anime timeline.

"Hey," Masaomi says, as casual as the drape of their bodies lounging on Mikado's futon, "can I rim you?"

When Mikado doesn't answer right away, Masaomi says, "That's when—"

"I know what it is." Heat surges to Mikado's face; he doesn't know whether he's more embarrassed by what Masaomi has suggested or by Masaomi thinking Mikado is so naïve as to not understand what has been suggested.

The twinkle in Masaomi's eye sweetens what otherwise might be an outright leer as he cocks his head at Mikado. "Has anyone ever done it for you?"

Mikado shakes his head, marveling at the ease with which Masaomi adjusts from viewing him as an ingénue to a sexual adventurer instantaneously.

"I think you'd like it a lot," Masaomi leans forward to confide. "It feels ah~may~zing." His grin softens. "But I don't want you to do anything you're not comfortable with, because if you're not relaxed it won't feel good, no matter how good _I_ am." He winks but of course he's serious, mostly.

Serious Masaomi, even Mostly Serious Masaomi, has a way of getting under Mikado's skin and making him fidget like nothing and no one else. After a moment, Mikado asks if he can have a shower first. He feels stupid as soon as the words come out of his mouth, but Masaomi just says "Of course!" and kisses him before falling back on the futon. He settles himself, studied and unselfconscious at the same time; legs stretched out, hands behind his head, he flashes another grin at Mikado. "I'll be here when you're ready." His toes flex and curl and flex again.

Mikado doesn't answer, unless one takes a blush as an answer—which he suspects Masaomi does.

In the shower Mikado takes longer than usual, maybe longer than necessary, making sure he's extra clean everywhere, not just _there_ (though especially _there_ , of course). Even when he's satisfied, or at least as satisfied as he's ever going to be, he stays in. He tries not to think about anything, to simply relax under the soothing sluice of water over his skin—but it's hard not to think about Masaomi.

Even if Masaomi weren't waiting, naked, in Mikado's bed right now, it would be hard for Mikado not to think about him. He allows himself a smile, flushed with more than the heat of the water. It's only been a few weeks since they started fooling around, though sometimes it feels like they've been together for years, and still other times it's as if they went from what they were to what they are in the blink of an eye.

They've mirrored that slow rush in bed. It's too much and not enough every time, with everything they do together; Mikado trembled as much the second time Masaomi fucked him as the first time, begged for it and still trembled the third time. He's only fucked Masaomi once so far, but he knows he'll shiver even more the next time.

It makes Masaomi smile, that Mikado is like this. He even laughs sometimes and Mikado blushes helplessly—but Masaomi never laughs in a mean way, just a happy one. That's what makes Mikado blush, really: that he's the one who makes Masaomi laugh and smile like this.

So Mikado knows he could walk back into his room and tell Masaomi he's changed his mind, and Masaomi wouldn't push him, wouldn't think any less of him. He kind of wants to make Masaomi smile in other ways, too, though. He wants to give Masaomi some of what he's given, what he's _giving_ Mikado.

Even so, Mikado hasn't entirely made up his mind one way or the other as he returns to his room.

The door creaks when he opens it. Alerted, Masaomi rolls onto his side and beckons Mikado to him with a familiar grin that Mikado doesn't think he'll ever tire of. Towel still wrapped around his waist, Mikado drops himself to the futon. Masaomi pushes himself up for a kiss, his hand resting along Mikado's jaw. Sighing into Masaomi's mouth, Mikado makes a note to try that himself.

When the kiss breaks, Masaomi makes a quick study of Mikado's face before pushing himself up more into a sitting position. "Shall we go out and grace the night with our magnificences? Surely Ikebukuro pines for us; we cannot let our fair city waste away with longing!"

"Oh." Mikado is caught off-guard more by the disappointment that wells up in his chest at Masaomi's words than at the words themselves. "I thought—I thought you wanted to—"

Masaomi doesn't make him finish the sentence, covering Mikado's mouth chastely with his own. When he starts to pull back, Mikado goes with him, hand cupped at his nape, tongue slipping between Masaomi's lips once more.

By the time they part, a gratifying color has fanned out along Masaomi's cheekbones. Mikado would like to lay his palm against it, to feel the color as heat in his hand; but that would be too bold, too fanciful.

Masaomi would do it, of course. And Mikado would love it.

"If you still want to," Mikado says, looking down at his hands curled in on themselves. He looks up from his loose fists, into Masaomi's eyes. "If you still want to, I—I want you to."

"Mikado," Masaomi says, all serious again, not even drawing out the syllables; and then in the next breath, whimsy leaks in once more: "It will be fan-fucking-tastic. I promise." He seals his words by crossing heart. "But you know," he tilts his head, lowering his voice as he leans in, so close that stray strands of Masaomi's hair brush Mikado's forehead, "it'll be fan-fucking-tastic whenever we do it."

At this closeness Mikado can't see Masaomi's mouth but he doesn't have to, to know it's curved in a grin. Still, Mikado wants to be sure, so he touches his lips to Masaomi's, feeling for the smile.

And oh~ yes, it's there: the smile, and the promise, too.

"I want to," Mikado says in the wake of the kiss, only it comes out, "I want you." The blush that comes on him is reflected in Masaomi's face. Mikado moistens his lips even though they don't feel dry. "Please. Make me feel." His gaze flickers away, then back to Masaomi's eyes. "Fanfuckingtastic."

The only warning Mikado gets is an "Oh~ Mikado~," sound blurred with breath; and then he's on his back, Masaomi's tongue in his mouth, Masaomi's hands stripping away the towel to better roam over his skin, touching Mikado everywhere he isn't covered by Masaomi. The full body kiss goes on and on, punctuated by soft moans, softer breaths. Masaomi's fingers, as clever as his tongue, soothe and tease and soothe more, and Mikado wears these caresses like a second skin, losing himself in the heat and closeness and touching.

When Masaomi sits up and says, "Here. Come here, like this," Mikado readily follows his words and his hands, letting Masaomi set him on his knees, straddling Masaomi's lap, facing away. Masaomi strokes his ass, reaching between his legs to palm Mikado's balls, and Mikado's knees slide open just a little more.

Masaomi's thumbs coax his cheeks apart but Mikado doesn't feel anything else, and he realizes Masaomi is looking at him _there_. A flicker shivers through him, lodges in his throat, wells up to escape as a soft whine. One of Masaomi's hands lets go to rub the small of Mikado's back, up along his spine and back down, and Mikado answers the wordless question with a deep sigh.

This time when Masaomi spreads him open, Mikado feels warm breath against his hole. He tenses a little, then eases with the next caress of breath. Masaomi holds Mikado open with one hand, his other massaging the spot behind Mikado's balls that makes Mikado whimper and skate his knees farther apart.

Then Masaomi kisses him _there_.

Mikado jerks a little, arches a little more. With the next wet flick against him, Mikado pushes back in his held arch, encouraging Masaomi's tongue. Mikado feels a soft rumble of vibrations, Masaomi's mouth laughing against him, not in mirth but, Mikado thinks, pleasure. He can't laugh, himself, but he does moan aloud at that. He's not sure he understands how Masaomi can enjoy putting his mouth on such a place—it is what it is, no matter how clean Mikado tried to scrub himself—but Mikado doesn't think Masaomi is faking his happiness in the moment, and that's enough to make Mikado's heart beat faster.

Besides which, Masaomi did not lie or, unexpectedly, exaggerate: it _does_ feel fan-fucking-tastic, ah~may~zing. Mikado puts his head down on folded arms as Masaomi continues kissing and licking him, circling Mikado's hole with his tongue tip, dragging across it with the flat of that wet muscle. Mikado's hips rock with the rhythm of Masaomi's lick-flicking tongue and he breathes in gasps, in _oh_ s and _yes_ es.

But Mikado is still Mikado and even as he slips into the surrender of sensation, he can't stop himself from thinking about what they're doing. What Masaomi is doing. Where his tongue is going. He pushes up onto his hands again and looks over his shoulder. "Can you—" he starts.

Masaomi lifts his mouth. "Need me to stop?"

Mikado rolls his hips, mostly succeeding in suppressing a whimper of loss. "No, please, just—don't go inside. Just keep on like you're doing it. Okay?"

"Oh, Mikado~" Masaomi's expression is unreadable, and for a moment Mikado fears he's said something wrong or weird or anyhow something that will make Masaomi stop, after all.

Masaomi doesn't move away, though. He shifts forward to drape himself on Mikado, resting his head on Mikado's back. "Whatever you want, Mikado," he murmurs. He lifts himself off and Mikado turns to look at him. Serious and flirty tangle in Masaomi's smile when their eyes meet. "Anything I can give you, is yours." He dips his head and presses his smile to Mikado's hole once more; opens his smile and licks Mikado.

He licks and licks, and Mikado's eyes flutter shut, his head falling to pillow on his arms again. Still licking, Masaomi shifts to hold Mikado open one-handed, his other finding Mikado's sac. His fingers nuzzle there, causing heavy coils of heat to tighten inside Mikado, sending sparks of thrill thrumming through his bloodstream. Masaomi's hand slides up to wrap around Mikado's cock and Mikado reaches down to meet it, riding Masaomi's hand as it strokes his length, Masaomi's breath hot, his tongue hotter against Mikado's opening.

That heavy heat, coiled impossibly tight in Mikado, suddenly spirals out, flooding through him as he opens inside himself, spilling out over their joined hands.

Slivers of thrill, splintered from the euphoria, linger and drift through Mikado. He doesn't move until Masaomi says his name. At that, Mikado rouses himself to turn around and settle in Masaomi's lap, leaving enough space between them for Masaomi to use his own stomach to wipe Mikado's come off his hand. When he's done Masaomi leans forward to kiss Mikado's brow, and Mikado closes his eyes.

"Was it." Masaomi pauses. "Are you okay?"

Mikado nods before opening his eyes. "It made me feel. Strange," he says.

Masaomi starts stroking Mikado's hair. "Strange-bad?"

Mikado shakes his head. He takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly, a little shaky. He searches for articulation and finds the word that comes closest to a part, if not the whole: "Vulnerable."

Masaomi stops stroking his hair, slips down to cup Mikado's jawline. "I want you to feel okay," he says. Searches Mikado's eyes. "I want you to feel better than okay. I want you to feel..."

When Masaomi doesn't continue, Mikado supplies with a smile, "Amazing?"

"Safe," Masaomi says.

Mikado looks into Masaomi's eyes, and feels like he's falling. He puts his hand on Masaomi's arm, just below the hand touching him, to steady himself.

"Do you want to fuck me now?" Masaomi asks. "Would that make it better?"

Mikado doesn't know how to tell Masaomi it's already better than better.

He kneels up without letting go of Masaomi. He reaches back for Masaomi's cock, curls his fingers around it and, even though Masaomi has softened from his own orgasm, Mikado rubs the head along his cleft.

"Okay?" He gazes deep into Masaomi eyes. "Please."

Masaomi looks back into Mikado. He reaches around to put his hand over Mikado's on his cock, stilling him. "Is this what you really want?"

Mikado lets Masaomi's eyes search him. Mikado holds something inside him, a secret that has come to lie between them, and sometimes he thinks Masaomi knows it's there even if he doesn't know what is. Sometimes the secret opens up between them, so deep and wide it feels like Masaomi has a secret, too—but Mikado knows that's just his guilty heart talking.

He doesn't want to taint Masaomi, so he keeps the secret tucked away when they're together. But now he opens himself to Masaomi's gaze; he's already so opened up he doesn't think he could close himself now, even if he wanted to. And maybe he doesn't want to. Maybe he wants... what he wants is... "I want to be close to you."

Masaomi says his name softly and Mikado leans in to kiss him. He can taste the tang of himself entangled in the kiss. He didn't mean to but he must have transmitted that to Masaomi somehow, because Masaomi pulls back.

The curtain rustles in the night breeze let in by the cracked-open window. "Ah~!" Masaomi flashes a grin. "She calls for us, the night—the moon, the very stars in the sky long for a glimpse of us! Ikebukuro itself languishes with desire for us; no one else will do. And who are we to deny them? Of course," he adds, lowering his voice as if this something not meant for the night to hear, "I must fix myself up—nothing less than perfection will do for this wondrous night!"

There may or may not be a double-entendre in that last bit. With Masaomi, it's hard to tell sometimes.

Mikado looks at Masaomi and feels like he should kiss him. Just kiss him.

"Okay," he says, and moves off to let Masaomi up.

Mikado gets dressed while Masaomi is in the bathroom. He doesn't think anything has been ruined; it's just a missed opportunity. That's what he hopes, anyhow.

When Masaomi comes back, "freshened and adorned for the night!", he twirls himself around for approval from all angles, which Mikado dutifully grants.

Outside, Masaomi bows to the night and Mikado hides his smile behind his hand. They start walking.

They walk for a while. After the flair of his debut to the evening, Masaomi has gone uncharacteristically quiet. He hasn't even said where they're going and Mikado doesn't ask. He doesn't ask anything and Masaomi doesn't say anything. It's not uncomfortable, it's just...Mikado can't escape the thought that it could be other than it is.

Then Masaomi takes his hand. Mikado looks over and, even though Masaomi's not looking back, Mikado feels a comfort he didn't know he needed. He squeezes Masaomi's hand and Masaomi glances over; they share a small smile.

Even though he hasn't said where they're going, Masaomi is walking with purpose. As they're crossing a small footbridge, Masaomi stops at the crest. He leans on the handrail and Mikado joins him in looking down at the slow-running water, distortions of the starry sky and the bridge they stand on and the boys themselves shimmering and reflecting back up at them.

"I want to talk to you," Masaomi says. He straightens and shifts to face Mikado. "Not because of what you said back in your room, about feeling vulnerable. I've been thinking about this for a while now."

Mikado also straightens and turns to Masaomi, looking at him even as Masaomi looks off. He wishes Masaomi were looking at him but he's also glad Masaomi can't see him swallow so hard.

"Sometimes," Masaomi says, not looking at Mikado, "ever since you came to Tokyo—there are times when it feels like we're far away from each other. Even farther than when we were in different towns."

The swallow jams at the base of Mikado's throat. It won't go down even when he tries again, so Mikado just breathes around it slowly.

"The thing is," Masaomi says, leaning on the railing again, peering at the stars in the water, "I love you." He takes a visible, audibly deep breath as he turns his head to look straight at Mikado: "I'm in love with you, Mikado."

For a heart-stopping, world-stopped moment, they only look at each other.

"It's all right," Masaomi tells him. "You don't have to say anything. That's not why I said it. I said it because it's how I feel. And I wanted you to know that someone, that I." He stops. Smiles. "I just wanted you to know."

Mikado can't find his tongue.

Masaomi is still smiling as he turns to look out across the water again, into the night, the city, supporting himself against the railing.

"Maybe." Masaomi pauses for a gust of breath that almost could be laughter; almost. "I don't know. Maybe that's not what it is..."

Mikado's hand slides along Masaomi's back as he moves now, wrapping himself around Masaomi from behind. He rests his cheek against the back of Masaomi's shoulder. He feels Masaomi's hand touch his and, as their fingers entwine, Mikado presses himself closer to Masaomi.

The water below them runs silently. The city murmurs inarticulately; the night sighs.

Masaomi turns in Mikado's arms and puts his arms around Mikado, too. He kisses Mikado; all the emptiness in Mikado's mouth is filled with kiss. Masaomi's kiss overflows Mikado, spills back into Masaomi, channeled by Mikado's tongue and lips.

They kiss.

"Hey," Masaomi says, leaning back and going up on tiptoe, fingers extending towards something unreachable in the night, "I think Cinema Sunshine has a midnight showing of Yuuhei Hanejima's new flick. Want to go?"

As he settles his feet back on the ground, his arm slings itself comfortably across Mikado's shoulders.

Now that they're back from the edge, Mikado feels just how close they were to the brink. Someday he'll confess to Masaomi—confess his secret, confess his everything. He truly will, someday.

For now, he smiles at his best friend.


End file.
